Through new eyes
by Sherlockian-Vortex
Summary: Dean's a newly born demon and Cas is a fading angel. It's not really the opportune time for them to admit their love for each other, but they do it anyway.


"Sammy. Sammy! I'm fine, but I just want you to talk with him. Okay?" Dean nearly yelled at his brother. Sam was pacing the kitchen while on his cell phone waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Are you sure, Dean?" Sam asked yet another time.

"I'm absolutely certain." Dean answered, tightening his jaw. Sam just nodded and continued pacing.

It had been a week since Crowley brought Dean back from the dead. And if Dean was being honest, then he would say that he preferred to be dead. He knew he was dead, and it wasn't too awful. His soul had passed through the veil, which was loud and crowded. However, it was nothing like what life was. For a brief moment, Dean thought that maybe he was going to heaven. He knew that heaven was closed, but maybe Cas had pulled something out of Metatron. So maybe he had a chance to go to heaven, and his heart skipped. He didn't do chick flick moments… but he was ready for one now. He and Cas could be together… maybe… somehow. No it was stupid, except Dean had wanted it so bad.

Then, of course, there was a tugging sensation in his gut. Someone's voice was talking. Someone was bidding him forward, and he thought it was Cas welcoming him to where ever he was, so he followed the voice. Instead of the warm hug that Dean excepted, a feeling akin to a rug burn (but ten thousand times worse) raged over his entire being. Suddenly he was back into his body. The first blade was lying on his chest, and he threw it away from him. He hated that blade. Nothing could make him clutch it again. Not life. Not death. He was done with it. Never again would he become the monster that blade made him.

Crowley tried to say something to him, but Dean wasn't going to hear it. He didn't even bother listening. He didn't want to hear that fucking accent ever again. The hunter walked past the king of hell without a second glance. Crowley tried to follow, but as soon as he took a step forward Dean had a normal knife against his throat. "I will kill carve a devil's trap into every inch of your skin if you take another step. I want nothing to do with you, Crowley. I don't want to pick up that blade again, but God so help me I will if you're ever come back into my sight I will."

Crowley had immediately put his hands up and stepped back. "Of course you will sweetie. But you will need me eventually, and when you realize that… I'll be waiting for your call." And with that Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared. Shortly after that incident, Sam found Dean in his room with his head in his hands.

"Dean?" He had asked incredulous. "What? How? You were…dead?"

"It was Crowley, so don't get too excited Sam. Something is wrong. I can feel that something is wrong, but I don't know what." Dean looked up at Sam with worried eyes. In return, Sam gasped, but quickly hid it a cough.

"I think I might know why that is." He said, attempting (but failing) to put a humorous spin on the situation.

"You do? What is it?!" Dean stood and walked toward Sam.

"You have- uh…" Sam cleared his throat. "Something in your eyes. Why don't you don't you go look in a mirror?"

"Sammy, I don't think what I'm feeling is just something in my eye." Dean spun around the room, looking for the small hand mirror, which was definitely not his, somewhere on his desk. He found it in the top desk drawer and looked in it, only to drop it on the floor where it shattered into a hundred reflective pieces.

"Don't freak out Dean, we'll figure out something out." Sam held his hands out, ready to stop Dean from destroying the nearby lamps or, more importantly, from destroying himself.

"Demon. I'm a demon. This is what it feels like to be a demon?" Dean looked at his hands, squinting as if expecting them to start glowing red or commit murder. But his hands did nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't understand… I feel normal."

Sam lowered his hands as he saw the confusion blossoming in Dean's eyes. "You feel… normal? Dean you died and came back from wherever you were. That's not remotely normal."

"I don't know, man." Dean shrugged, surprised how well he was taking this. "I was on my way to heaven or that's what it felt like. I was moving through the veil and there were so many souls there Sammy. We were all crowded together, but I'm certain that we were all to heaven."

"Then how'd this happen?" Sam asked. His stance was loosened completely, no longer worried about Dean being a threat. His eyes were darting from Dean to everything else in the room, and his eyebrows were lowered in thought.

"Crowley. First blade. Who knows, but here's the important thing. I feel totally fine, even better than I did before I died."

"I imagine that's because being stabbed in the stomach feels rather unpleasant." Sam interrupted.

"I'm gonna ignore that." Dean glared. "But maybe all I needed was a dip in the veil, and another death experience. Because… I don't know Sammy… I feel refreshed, reborn. It's like I'm finally seeing everything for the first time, because this burden, you know what it is. It's that weight that you gotta save everyone, but knowing deep down that you can't. I let it all go. I was dying and you were there. You heard me. I was proud- I _am_ proud- of us. I was okay with dying for once, and it's never been like that before."

"I believe you." Sam nodded slowly as he recalled a similar feeling that he went through after coming back from hell. He walked closer to his brother so that Dean could see the newly dried tear tracks on his face. Then the moose of a person, pulled Dean in a tight hug. "Demon or not. I'm glad you're back."

"I think someone's picking up," Sam mouthed to Dean. Dean nodded his head once and gave Sam a thumbs-up. Then he returned to staring nervously at a slightly discolored portion of the floor next to one of the wooden tables. Out of the corner of his eye (his normally colored eyes, not his new ones) he saw Sam straighten his back as someone answered.

"Hello to you, Cas," Sam responded to the phone.

"A week of being MIA and all he says is "hello"" Dean muttered, placing a hand on his forehead. He had been wanting to see Cas ever since he died, and it was almost painful to not see him. Maybe it was part of having the burden lifted. All the emotions that he used to suppress refused to go unnoticed. Fear welled up in his stomach as he anticipated seeing Cas again, and maybe he would tell him how he felt. Happiness flitted across his cheeks as if he were blushing. Every emotion felt so much more intense than it had before he died. It was like they were neon bright instead of sepia toned, and Dean was scared that it would be too much. Maybe Cas didn't feel the same way? And even if he did, his grace was slipping still. Cas was a fading angel. He was a newly-born demon. Dean hung his head. He didn't have any more of a chance now than he did before.

"Yeah, look Cas. It's really wonderful to hear from you. Dean and I were worried about you." Sam paused. "Yeah. Dean is here. Why do you ask?"

Dean's heart jumped in his chest. Cas wanted to know if he was there. He should have called him instead of making Sam do it, but he just couldn't do it. He might have puked.

"Oh! No! He's not dead. Well he was, but now he's" Sam looked over at Dean, who was making huge hands movements toward his eyes while mouthing to Sam not to tell Cas about the whole demon thing. Sam got the message, and finished his sentence to Cas lamely. "But now he's back."

"Yeah. Well I'm sure he'd love to see you Cas, so if you want to come."

"I'll be right there," Cas answered, but he was already here, having appeared directly in front of Sam.

"I see that." Sam half- smiled, putting away his phone.

"Where is Dean?" Cas asked, looking around. His eyes landed on Dean before Sam could answer.

"Right there," he said anyway. Sam could already feel the connection between Dean and Cas building and decided to excuse himself. "I'll go get some beers."

"Dean?" The word left Cas's mouth like an exploding star and a silent galaxy seen through a telescope. There were too many emotions for Dean to identify.

"Cas," Dean echoed, but his voice quavered. He couldn't help it. While he was looking at this angel, who had risked everything for him, everything else faded into the background. Yet, at the same time, every problem seemed to become clearer. They couldn't possibly be together. The reality crashed down on Dean, making his heart sink all the way to hell.

"I thought you were dead. Metatron…" Cas closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly. "Metatron said he killed you."

"He did." Dean answered. "I was in the veil, making my way to heaven."

"Heaven's still closed, Dean."

"Then I was making my way to you, Cas. Maybe it's the same goddamn thing for thing, because the entire time I was dead all I could think about was you." Dean wasn't sure why he'd suddenly shouted that, but he was frustrated. Not at Castiel, but at himself. At both of them. "The only reason I even came back was 'cause I thought you were calling me."

"I wasn't… I couldn't…" Cas was blinking like part of his brain was still buffering the information that Dean was still alive.

"Yeah, I know. It's okay." Dean said. He could feel himself deflating. He got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and placed a hand on Cas's shoulder. His new coat wasn't nearly as soft as the old one been. Damn, he missed that coat. He should really see if he could get Cas a new version of it, instead of whatever he had now.

"No, Dean. It's not… You were dead. I thought you were dead, and there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to make heaven safe. I wanted to return everyone to heaven, and Hannah will figure it out. She's a real smart one. But when Metatron told me… and I saw the blood… And, despite the inaccuracy of the phrase, it would be sufficient to say that my heart broke. We locked Metatron up, and I left. I just prayed. I wanted to find you Dean, but I couldn't. My grace is fading, and I'm scared, because I don't know where angels go when they die. But they don't go to heaven. You, Dean… you'll go to heaven. I'm sure of it. And all I can think about is that I won't be there when that happens, and I can barely be with you now." Cas grabbed Dean's hand as he started to remove it from the angel's shoulder. "And I'm so sorry Dean. I mess everything up."

Not allowing himself to think too much about it (especially his inability to go to heaven now), Dean pulled Cas in for a hug. "Cas. It'll be okay. We'll figure out something."

"You Winchesters always seem to do that," Cas laughed. But his laugh was coated with tears as he clutched onto Dean.

"Cas…it'll be okay. I'm not going to let you die." Dean held him out at an arm's length, somewhat reluctantly. But the words refused to come out, because Cas was a mess. His eyelashes were sticking together as if he had just gone swimming. His cheeks were flushed, and Dean's heart hurt to see him like this. He looked hopeless, and like he had already given up. Dean could tell him that he would be okay. That he and Sam would figure something out from one of the many books in the bunker. But what was the point? They were only possible truths. They were wastes of breath.

"Okay Dean." It was obvious that Cas didn't believe him. Cas could feel himself fading, and he knew that he had used the last of his mojo getting to the bunker. He could feel the spaces between the molecules that made up his vessel and the air around him. The space was vast and he wanted to slip into it. But Dean, standing right in front of him, kept him together. So what if he was fading and every portion of his body hurt? He was with Dean. Dean was alive. The Winchesters would be okay without him.

A memory of something Dean said, what felt like life times ago, floated into Cas's mind. "If this was your last night on earth, what do you want do?"

At the time Cas had responded that he had planned on sitting in the abandoned house they were at all evening and doing nothing besides thinking. Dean had other ideas, which Cas had gone along with. But faced with that very same question now, Cas had a very different answer.

_You, Dean. If this is my last night on earth, then I want to spend it with you and only you. _All other thoughts drifted from Cas's mind, and it was just Dean. But as he looked at the hunter's freckles and stubble that (probably) felt like coarse sands in the Gobi Desert, his insides shook in fear. What if Dean didn't love him? Did he even know what love was if he wasn't human? Could he do this to Dean knowing that it was only once? Was he willing to cause Dean more pain? The questions rumbled in mind like the beginning of a thunderstorm. _Fuck it_ thought Cas, and he leaned in and kissed Dean. The storm cleared, and everything was silent. Everything was only Dean.

Cas's lips were soft and Dean was more than a little surprised when he leaned in. He closed his eyes, just in case he became too distracted to keep the black ones hidden. Cas's lips were soft, and his stubble rubbed against Dean's upper lip. The sensation was just right, and Dean moaned into Castiel's mouth. His heart was racing in his chest, beating for every time he had wanted to kiss Cas but didn't, and it hurt. But it hurt in such a good way that Dean want to cry tears of elation. He moved his arms from Cas's shoulders to inside his stupid, adorable coat and the second layer suit jacket. Dean splayed his fingers over the button down shirt's soft fabric, feeling the heat radiating from Cas's skin. He pulled the angel closer to him, so that they were chest to chest.

"Dean," Cas's lips moved with Dean's as he breathed the word out. He was overwhelmed by all the emotions running through him. This must be why humans were obsessed with love, because there was nothing in heaven like it. It wasn't peaceful or blissful. It was terrifying and confusing and perfect. He didn't know where to put his hands or how to kiss, but he realized that Dean didn't care what he did. They were together in this crazy emotion. As Dean pulled him impossibly closer, Cas's hands ended up with on the small of Dean's back and the other on his butt. He squeezed the hunter's butt for no other reason than it seemed like the absolute perfect shape for a butt.

"Cas," Dean growled. His voice was so low it nearly sounded like his beloved Impala. "If you want to go any further, we're going to need to go to my room."

"Yeah. Good idea." Cas replied breathlessly.

Dean lead then toward his room, pausing once or twice to kiss Cas against a wall. When they arrived to his room, which had been cleaned extensively since Dean came back, Dean paused. He was unsure what to do, because he wanted this to be special. What if he was rushing Cas? Should they wait?

Cas, as if hearing these thoughts, kissed Dean again once very softly. Without saying anything else, Cas shrugged off his top two layers, and untucked his shirt. Dean stepped closer to Cas, and loosened his tie for him, running his fingers over the silk. He pulled it over Cas's head and laid it on top of the growing pile of clothing on the floor. The fabric of Cas's shirt was unfathomably rough in comparison to his skin, which Dean was now learning for the first time. Cas in turn was slowly removing Dean's layers. Unfortunately, every time Cas took off a layer, the hunter had to take his hands off of him. Soon they were both stripped completely. They stood staring at each other, not saying anything for fear of ruining the silence between them.

Dean leaned in and kissed Cas. It was not like the first kiss, which was slow and longing. This one was fast paced and messy. Their tongues roamed into each other's mouth, and Cas simultaneously felt like he was going to explode and like he was more solid than he'd ever been. Dean guided them to the bed so that Cas was lying on top of him. All he could feel was Cas's comfortable weight, and he never wanted it to end. He moved his head down to kiss Cas's neck and anything else in reach. His hands swept up and down Cas's back, causing his breath to hitch.

"Dean. Deeaaan." Cas moaned. His eyes were closed, because if he looked at Dean he knew that he would become over loaded, because it was too much. He felt too loved, and he didn't deserve it. He bucked his hips as Dean moved his hands to his ass, resting his thumbs on Cas's hips. Their cocks lined up without them meaning them for it to happen, and they both let out guttural groans. Cas started move his hips, his entire body shifting against Dean. Against, perhaps, his better reaction, Dean tightened his hold on Cas's hipbones and held him still. The angel whimpered and squirmed wanting to get the beautiful friction back. Dean moved under him slowly, just barely letting their skin touch. Realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere by moving his hips, Cas gave up control to Dean. However, he moved his mouth down to Dean's neck and kissed the skin under his jaw line. He grinned when he heard his breath hitch.

"You're going to kill me Cas." He breathed the words out unevenly as Cas continued to kiss him.

"Don't worry. You never stay dead for long," Cas joked, causing Dean to lean his head back and laughed. Cas zoned in on the skin under his chin that he couldn't reach before.

Dean rolled his hips against Cas's in revenge for that comment, making Cas lose focus on his sole task of kissing every inch around Dean's face.

"Fuck Dean." Cas leaned his forehead onto Dean's chest as the hunter rolled his hips again and again and again. Both of them were dripping, and on the edge of exploding into bliss. Two more rolls and they were both gone. White flashed in front of their eyes, and Cas fell onto Dean, his arms refusing to hold him up any longer.

Their breaths filled the room, as they struggled to speak. But there was no need to. Dean was holding Cas as close to him as possible, his arms looping around the angel's strong torso. It was as if he was afraid he'd disappear before he got the chance to thank him or tell him that he was pretty sure he loved him.

Cas's hands cradled Dean's precious head, and he ran his fingers through the hunter's hair. He felt too weak to raise his head off of his chest, and there was no reason too. He could stay like this for now. There was no apocalypse to save the world from or Metatron to defeat. For once it was him and Dean. Nothing else mattered in this moment.

Castiel had never felt the need to sleep. He'd been a celestial being for the vast majority of his existence, so the need for sleep wasn't something he dealt with. However, he now thought that there was something extraordinary about sleep in the fact that one gets to wake up, specifically, waking up next to someone that you loved so much that it made your heart throb. Dean slept peacefully next to him, breathing in then breathing out. Repetitive moments that no one ever thought about too much, but Cas could sense all the molecules of air rushing in and out of his lungs, supplying life to him.

In a sleepy haze, Cas placed a hand next on Dean's chest and tentatively moved into the space next to him. He carefully avoided lying on Dean's outstretched arm and placed his head on it. Dean's arm automatically shifted so that it enveloped Cas.

"Oh Dean," Cas whispered to the sleeping figure. "I'm so sorry. Even when I try to make your life better, I make it worse."

He pressed a kiss on the inside of Dean's arm. "I'm nearly gone Dean. I can feel it. Angels shouldn't sleep, yet here I am, sleeping next to you. Well I'm not exactly sleeping now, since I woke up."

"Have I ever told you about prime numbers Dean? I love prime numbers. They're intimidating for some unexplainable reason, but I love them all the same. It's funny how prime numbers work, because when you start counting they're all close to each other. 2,3,5,7… but then they start getting further apart. 13, 17, 23, 27, 31… and eventually they're so far apart that you lose track of the prime numbers among all the non-prime numbers. That's how I imagine relationships work, not that I have much experience. But you start off close and then drift further and further apart until eventually you're so far apart you're just a thought. That sounds depressing, doesn't it? But it's not, because prime numbers carry on infinitely. So relationships never really end."

"Then there are these prime numbers that are called happy primes. They're prime numbers, but more complicated. I could explain the process, but it doesn't really matter. Happy primes are spread out even farther apart than normal prime numbers are. There's a lot of distance between those numbers, and maybe that's what happens when you die. You become the space between happy primes, except the two numbers are so far apart that you never get to reach the next number. Or maybe the next number is reincarnation, except I don't think anyone gets reincarnated. One life is all you get." Cas paused and looked at Dean. "At least that's what most people get. I've already over expended mine, and I keep getting brought back. But I don't think I will this time. I just want to say, Dean Winchester, I love you more than I have loved anyone or anything since I was created before the Earth was formed. Your life is fleeting, and mine has been so long. However, I don't think that matters, because when it comes down to it… I still don't feel ready to go."

Dean started to shift beside Cas, and he could tell that he was on the brink of waking up. "Stay strong Dean. You are loved for now and ever, because my love for you is as infinite at the amount of prime numbers."

"Mmm…" Dean grumbled. He was mostly awake now. Warm arms wrapped around Cas and a sleepy kiss was planted on his forehead.

"Mornin' Cas." Dean greeted, slumber glazing his words like sweet frosting. He opened his eyes, except instead of the green Cas was expecting, they were black. The black was only there for a moment, and then Dean blinked and his eyes were normal again. Cas's eyes widened as he subtly shifted away from Dean's intoxicating warmth.

"Dean? Morning, yes. Are you feeling okay, Dean?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Dean answered, rubbing his eyes. "Why?"

"It's nothing, nothing." Cas waved it off, glancing down at the white blankets. He exhaled slowly, letting out the word "christo."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean flinch. Immediately, he rolled over and pinned Dean to the bed. It didn't matter that they were still both naked. Nakedness didn't matter to Cas, not while Dean was being possessed. "Who are you? You aren't Dean! Show yourself demon. I am an angel of the Lord and I will gladly use what's left of my grace to get you out of Dean."

Cas started to put his hand on Dean's forehead. "No! Cas. It's me, I swear. I died, and Crowley brought me back. It was all the damn mark. I should have listened to you, but I was so focused on beating Metatron and Abaddon. I was going to tell you but…"

"You were afraid I'd react like this?" Cas answered for him. He looked into Dean's eyes, and he knew. He just knew that Dean was still Dean even if he was a demon now. "I'm sorry Dean that was too rash. I should have… I should have acted differently."

"Yeah well. I should have told you first. I didn't know that my eyes did that when I woke up. It's not like there was anyone to tell me that." Dean half laughed, but Cas could hear the self-hatred crawling into his voice.

"Dean, I-" Castiel paused to cough. He had minutes. His focus was dissolving. He couldn't do this to Dean, but it wasn't really like he had a choice in the matter. "Dean, I don't have long. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for reacting badly. I'm sorry for not telling you about my love before now. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you. I'm sorry for using you. I'm sorry for storming into your life without asking if it was okay. I'm sorry for everything, but mostly I'm sorry that I decided to take some angel's grace instead of finding my own."

"Why are you telling me all this Cas?" Dean asked anxiously. He could tell where this was headed, and he didn't like it.

"Because that grace is burnt out, and I'm going to leave you. I'm so so sorry Dean. I don't want to. I really don't want to. And maybe this is selfish, but I love you, Dean Winchester. I will always love you whether you're a demon or a human or even, my father forbid, an angel. Because at the heart of everything you are Dean Winchester. You are strong and compassionate and brave. You have done so much for this world, and I want to thank you for that. You have helped me in ways I wouldn't even fathom, and I'm sorry Dean."

Cas coughed into his hand, and when he pulled his hand away glowing blue flecks covered his hand. The grace was burning up his inside.

"No. No Cas you're not dying now. Not after we finally… you know!" Dean gestured toward the bed wildly. "We'll find your grace."

Dean jumped off the bed, and pulled on his pants and a shirt. When Cas didn't move, Dean started to put pants and a shirt onto him, which was significantly harder than taking them off of him. Cas didn't understand the point of changing, but he humored Dean. His legs shook as he tried to stand.

"Dean, please." Cas mumbled, as Dean struggled to get the suit jacket and coat onto Cas.

"Fine. No coat then. Do you want your tie?" Dean leaned from Cas's side to grab the tie as Cas sat down on the side of the bed on top of the rumbled sheets.

"No Dean, I don't need the tie." Cas protested as Dean slid it over his head.

"Yeah, well maybe you don't. But you don't seem like you without the tie, and I love you… so you need the tie." Dean felt tears well up into his eyes, which he might find interesting (demons can cry?) if it weren't for the situation.

"I love you too Dean," Cas replied, a sad smile quirking to the side. Dean sat down next to Cas on the bed and hesitantly took hand.

"Yeh," Dean squeaked the word out of his closing throat. Cas gave leaned his head onto Dean's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I love you. Stay you, Dean." Cas said. He sounded like he was falling asleep.

"I love you, Cas. I love you, Cas. I'm sorry too. I will, Cas. I will. I need you. Don't go. Don't go..." Dean repeated these words over and over, but it was of no use. Cas couldn't hear them. Eventually Sam found Dean sobbing in his room, rocking Cas in his arms.

Six months had passed since Cas's "death," but Dean didn't once cease his quest to obtain Cas's grace. It was pure energy and it couldn't just disappear. It was somewhere. He stroked the blue tie that he now always kept in his front coat pocket.

"Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm still looking." Dean prayed. His insides felt like they had been set on fire, but he didn't care. It was his punishment for loving Cas and failing him. "I'll find your grace and bring you back. I promise." And then instead of an _amen_ Dean ended the prayer with, "I love you."


End file.
